


The Calm Before the Storm

by Lots_of_Little_Pink_Clouds



Series: Birds of a Feather [10]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade (Choice of Games Visual Novels), Vampire: The Masquerade - Night Road
Genre: Beau has an obvious crush on Lettow, Blood Drinking (Discussed), M/M, Things are about to go wrong, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 15:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30091326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lots_of_Little_Pink_Clouds/pseuds/Lots_of_Little_Pink_Clouds
Summary: February 2nd 2019"Every time we sniff out a lead, the trail goes cold. Someone's dead who shouldn't be dead." Beau starts to pace. "Someone's tipped off who shouldn't've been tipped off. And now that we're so close to cracking this whole thing, I've just..." He stops and turns to his friend. "I've just got a bad feeling, Prince. Areallybad feeling.""Have you seen something?" The Prince's stare is so intense that Beau has to stop himself from shivering."No. But my gut's telling me that we better hold tight. The wind's hissing like a shovelhead on a spit roasting over a fire."**The Bloodlines PC warns Prince Lettow Kaminsky that things are about to go horribly wrong.
Relationships: Fledgling (Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines)/Lettow Kaminsky (one-sided?)
Series: Birds of a Feather [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092887
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Calm Before the Storm

**February 2nd 2019**

_Click_.

 _FLASH_.

Beauregard Sawyer brings his phone closer to his face and examines the picture he took of his wall. He frowns. Too blurry. He deletes it and raises his phone to take another.

It's important that he has a photo of everything.

Call him paranoid, but he feels like he'll need it soon.

What began as a single large corkboard quickly turned into something more. As the physical manifestation of his consciousness grew, Beau got a second corkboard, then a third, then a fourth. Eventually, he gave up on spending his measly salary on corkboards and started pinning stuff to the walls instead. Slowly, his project got bigger and bigger as all the missing pieces made themselves known to him, the original board he bought when he and Heather moved to Tucson1 long buried under everything else.

Now, the Malkavian's bedroom is decorated with an elaborate spaghetti board of newspaper clippings, pictures, and sticky notes reinforced with tape. Red string connects relevant ideas to each other, creating a tangled trail of madness that only he could understand. A web of notes hangs above his bed, threatening to fall on him while he sleeps. The desk shoved into the far corner is buried under a mountain of notebooks, loose paper, and stationery. Precariously balanced on top is a lamp, light shining a dull yellow around the room.

Everything is clear until it's not.

Caine. Enoch. Malkav. Panehesy. Pashedu of Thebes. Demetrius of Antioch.

Then comes Huginn and Muninn. The first discrepancy. Ravens, both. Great-Grandfathers, both. Brothers, sons, and on, and on, and on, and on. But how were they both? Were they not one? Like the Daughters of Janus, were they not two faces of the same person that walked the earth together? What made them Huginn _and_ Muninn and not Huginn _or_ Muninn?

 _They thought they were one_.

 _They were wrong_.

Beau bites his lip, willing his hands to stop shaking.

 _Click_.

 _FLASH_.

Too blurry, try again.

And after the ravens comes Catalina la Mirlo. The Blackbird. Grandmother and Sister and Daughter and on, and on, and on. Catalina is She, but Blackbird is They. Was she not _a_ blackbird? What made the Blackbird a They and not a He? Why not He instead of She?

 _The sins of one's forebears are passed down to each generation_.

 _Click_.

 _FLASH_.

Too blurry, try again.

Then there's Gerard Pelletier.2 The Rook. Father and Brother and Son and Grandson and on, and on. Should the Rook not be a They, like the Blackbird? And if not a rook, then why not a sparrow?

 _Death always wins in the end_.

And it doesn't stop there. The Falcon. Caterina de Luca. Mars. Chica. The Druid.3

Beau frowns and tosses his phone onto the bed in frustration. A knock on his bedroom door makes him jump.

"Beau?" Heather's voice calls.

"Yeah Feather? What's up?"

Beau turns around to see his ghoul open the door enough to poke her head in.

"Prince Lettow is here."

"Oh! Yeah, okay." The Malkavian whirls around and bounds over to his desk, moving the lamp to sit on the bed where it won't fall over. He hears muffled voices and the door opening further as he rifles around looking for the folder he prepared.

"I see you've been busy," the Prince of Tucson says.

Beau glances over his shoulder to look at the Gangrel. Lettow Kaminsky shoves one hand into his pants' pocket while the other holds a wide-brimmed hat against his chest. The Malkavian watches him drift towards one of the walls, blue eyes scanning over the work that's consumed Beau's unlife on-and-off for the past fourteen years. He's wearing white tonight. Beau smiles.

"And I see you're looking as radiant as ever," he replies, turning back to his search.

Lettow snorts. It's ugly and undignified and makes Beau's unbeating heart thump.

"Absolutely shameless."

The Malkavian can feel the Prince's eyes on his back. He runs a hand through his hair and tries to ignore it.

"Just calling it how I see it."

Even though he's not looking at him, Beau knows Lettow is shaking his head.

"Speaking of calling," Lettow says, "You asked to meet?"

"Yep. I've got a thing for you." Beau straightens, finally managing to find his folder. It's heavy and worn and held together by three elastic bands on the verge of snapping. The Malkavian turns to Lettow and hands it to him. The Prince raises an eyebrow.

"What is this?"

"My hard copy on the Modian case."

Modian is an 8th Generation Nosferatu. Beau's not sure how long Lettow's known the man, but they were close enough that the Prince asked him to look into Aila's death. He was also Dove's sire, so that likely had something to do with Lettow and Modian's relationship. The old Nosferatu went missing five years ago while hunting a lead and Beau volunteered to find him. So far, he and his coterie4 haven't had any luck.

Lettow blinks. He stares at the bundle in his arms with such intensity that Beau would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. Then his gaze returns to Beau, pensive. "I thought Salem had everything on their computer?"

"They do." Beau nods. Dove's childe was a gremlin when it came to hoarding information. "But computers can be hacked. We thought it'd be a good idea to get everything in writing. You know. Just in case."

"I understand that. However, why are you giving this to me now?"

"Every time we sniff out a lead, the trail goes cold. Someone's dead who shouldn't be dead." Beau starts to pace. "Someone's tipped off who shouldn't've been tipped off. And now that we're so close to cracking this whole thing, I've just..." He stops and turns to his friend. "I've just got a bad feeling, Prince. A _really_ bad feeling."

Lettow's brow furrows.

"Just..." Beau gestures to the folder. "Just hold onto that. Keep it at your haven and don't let anyone know. You'll need it."

"Have you seen something?" The Prince's stare is so intense that Beau has to stop himself from shivering.

"No. But my gut's telling me that we better hold tight. The wind's hissing like a shovelhead on a spit roasting over a fire."

 _Fire and screams and burnt feathers_.

 _The fletcher will not live to see her next sunrise_.

 _Turtles do not a good excuse make_.5

Lettow places both the folder and his hat on the bed. Then he turns and rests his hands on Beau's shoulders.

The Malkavian suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close they are to each other, how he can see the lamp's yellow light reflecting in Lettow's blue, blue eyes, how the strands of Lettow's slicked back hair that escaped its uniform style curls against his forehead. Beau suddenly notices how much of a mess he is compared to Lettow, how he's still wearing his pajamas since he couldn't be bothered to change, how tangled his hair has gotten since he showered a few hours ago, how the Beast festers at the back of his mind reminding him that he hasn't eaten all night. How close they are to the bed.

He wants to scream.

"Whatever happens," Lettow says, not noticing Beau's existential crisis, "We will be ready."

All Beau can do is nod dumbly. The Prince's eyes drag over his face before he nods and lets go. He grabs the folder and his hat. Beau sighs and takes a step back, hugging himself.

" _Fucking calm down_ ," he thinks. " _Now's_ not _the time_."

Lettow looks at him worriedly. Beau tries to smile back. It's shaky, but convincing enough for the Prince to drop it. Though the look he gives Beau tells the Malkavian that Lettow doesn't believe him for a second.

"I should go," Lettow says. "It's close to daybreak and I want to avoid the morning rush."

 _Now, now, do it now_!

"Actually," Beau says uncertainly. "There was one more thing I wanted to ask."

Lettow pauses and turns to him.

Stay the day, Beau wants to say. Instead, he blurts out, "I know what I want. As payment. For the case."

"Oh? You've finally made your decision?" Lettow's lips twitch into a teasing smile. "How long has it been? Five years?"

"Something like that."

When Beau initially took the job, Lettow offered him a variety of rewards. Beau had no interest in a pay increase, as he knew money was tight due to SI interference. Nor was he interested in a major boon, no matter how useful it would be. He just didn't like having a friend owe him for something so personal.

However, Disciplines were a different story. When Lettow explained the capabilities that the Blood granted him as a Gangrel, Beau became _very_ interested. Not enough to fully commit, but interested nonetheless. Drinking another Kindred's blood could be dangerous, especially if you're the type to get hooked on two sips instead of three. Beau's never tested if he's one of those and he's not interested in finding out.

But getting his own famulus? Shape shifting? Being able to lift a truck with one hand? All of those would be so cool.

That all falls to the wayside though compared to the ability to fortify one's mind and resist the mental persuasions of other Kindred.6 Beau is well aware that the one time he threw off the Jester Prince's Domination was a fluke. Just thinking about being under someone else's control like that again makes him want to claw his eyes out. Add to that what he read about his sire, and well...

In any instance, the Malkavian asked for more time to think about his answer. The other options were still viable and even desirable in some sense, and he didn't want to count them out. He's just glad the Prince understood. Though, judging by the comments the Gangrel's made over the past few years, he was starting to grow impatient.

"Well then?"

"Disciplines."

"I thought you might choose that." Lettow chuckles, shaking his head. "You seemed enamored with the possibility."

If Beau was human, he'd die of embarrassment. He runs a hand through his hair, shrinking in on himself.

"But I am surprised it took you so long." The look the Prince gives him is chiding, cold. A gentle reminder that Lettow is a Prince, and Princes don't like it when their time is wasted.

Embarrassment gives way to shame and Beau winces. "Won't happen again. Promise."

"Be sure it doesn't."

Beau falls into step behind the Prince in silence as the Gangrel makes his way to the front door. Clattering comes from the kitchen as Heather cooks an early breakfast for herself. A soft rumble echoes throughout the basement apartment - " _Probably the boiler_ ," Beau thinks, " _We really need to get that fixed_." - as they stop so Lettow can put his shoes on.

"You pick the time," the Malkavian offers awkwardly. "I'm free whenever."

 _Not forever_.

 _The weather turns and roses come into bloom_.

 _Fire and dust and memories on an eastern wind_.

"I will let you know." Lettow puts his hat on and tucks the folder under his arm. He gives Beau a strained smile then steps into the alleyway.

Beau watches him leave, frowning.

 _It all ends in 12 days_.

"What ends?" he asks.

Naturally, the voices don't answer.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. See [Black Cadillac Valentines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660233). Back  
> 2\. This is Beau's Kindred lineage (Caine to Gerard Pelletier). Back  
> 3\. These are the childer of Beau's sire that diablerized someone within the family. See [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786023/chapters/70592013) for a general overview. Back  
> 4\. Beau's coterie consists of Beau (Malkavian), Salem (Nosferatu, Dove's childe), Theodore Sinclair (Ventrue, Elin Olivecrona's childe), and Mariah Havelka (Tremere, Invidia Caul's childe). Back  
> 5\. These three insights that Beau has were originally mentioned by Izzy and Wren (see Note 3 above) in [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003408). Back  
> 6\. Refers to the Level 1 V5 Fortitude ability Unswayable Mind. Back
> 
> I noticed that the fics I've written where Beau and Lettow interact primarily with each other (Chapter 2 of The Princess Who Will Never Wake and Eyes Wide Open, as of March 16 2021) are both from Lettow's POV. So here's one that focuses on Beau and his really obvious crush. He has no clue if Lettow reciprocates (which, the man's probably peripherally aware, but it hasn't quite sunken in yet), and frankly, he's not willing to confess and find out at this point in time. Beau's got his reasons, which they'll talk about when the truth inevitably comes out.
> 
> As for what Beau's so worried about. Well. It'll be fun. To write. Not so fun for Beau. At least he gets some new Disciplines to help him out. Writing Malkavians is a time ngl. But at least I can throw in lots of foreshadowing because of their foresight abilities.


End file.
